Page 66 of My Queendom for a Horse

“Why do you want Sean to come back? You just said you hated him, so I’m understandably lost.”

“I abhor him,” he says. “But if I punch him, I’ll feel better.”

“You want me to call him and ask him to come over. . .so you can hit him?” It’s like all men are secretly toddlers who are piloting adult suits. “Aleks, look. Sean’s important to me, and you need to stop—”

He spins on his heel and grabs me with both hands, pulling me closer, his fingers tightening around my upper arms. “Important to you? How?”

Now it’s my turn to ask, “How what?”

“Why do you even like him?”

I blink. “He’s handsome. He’s smart. He’s rich. He’s polite and he cares about me.” What’s not to like about Sean? “And he puts up with you, which means he has the patience of a saint.”

“He’s too polite.” His eyes spark like the embers of a fire that are too hot to remain contained. “He’s not handsome at all. And who cares if he’s rich? Plenty of people are rich.”

I laugh. “I’m not rich, and neither are you. Hardly anyone is truly rich, at least, not in the way Sean’s rich.”

“I am rich,” he says. “I practically own an entire state in Russia.”

“You did own an entire state, you mean. Now, as far as the world knows, you’re dead. That means you own nothing.”

Aleks’ shoulders droop a bit. “How do you think I owned all of that in the first place?”

I try to shake his hands off, but it doesn’t work. His grip merely tightens. “I don’t know. You have earth powers. Maybe you grew and sold a lot of rutabagas?”

He rolls his eyes. “Rutabagas? No, look—”

I slam my hands outward, knocking his away from me. “No, you look. Sean’s polite. You may say he’s too polite, but I like that he lets me make my own decisions without interference.”

“You like that, do you?” Aleks steps toward me, his dark eyes intent.

I back up.

He steps toward me again.

And I practically trot backward until my back hits the wall of the horse stall behind me.

Aleks grins. “You don’t even know what you like. You say you like that he’s polite, but you never look like this when he’s around.”

“Like what?” My voice comes out all breathy and unsure, and I hate it. I clear my throat. “Like what?” This time, at least I sound solid.

“Like you’re. . .” He takes another step, and this time, his body’s only inches from mine.

Heat radiates outward from him, like he has his own personal heater. I’m drawn to it, like a fragile, stupid moth.

My heart hammers in my chest, like it did when we burst into that room with the men holding my dad. Like it did when I was about to race in Ireland.

Like it wants to run away with him and never look back.

Aleks shifts until his broad chest brushes against mine, and an uncontrollable shiver starts from down in my feet and slides all the way up to my head.

My entire body trembles like a leaf in gusty wind.

He lifts one hand and brushes the tips of his fingers down the side of my face, slowly. His progress down my face and then across my shoulder is painfully slow, like he’s enjoying the experience of torturing me.

And I can’t seem to break away from it.

I’m not sure I even want to.

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